


Beautiful & Deadly Sharp

by vlaurie17



Series: She-Wolves [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Past Abuse, Protective Arya Stark, Sansa Stark is Queen in the North, Season/Series 08, Sibling Bonding, Sister-Sister Relationship, Training, and the stark girls are ready, the pack survives, winter is here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 19:22:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18505456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vlaurie17/pseuds/vlaurie17
Summary: Learning to fight with a sword were some of Arya's best memories. Sansa, however, was hesitant.“What do I do with it?”“Stick ‘em with the pointy end,” Arya smirked.Sansa just rolled her eyes, “Obviously."





	Beautiful & Deadly Sharp

Arya fondly remembered when her father had allowed her to begin training with none other than the First Sword of Braavos, Syrio Forel, years ago. Learning how to “water dance” were some of the only memories of King’s Landing that didn’t bring her pain.

In fact, Arya had taken to sword fighting and training like a fish to water, and it had felt like a dream come true.

Sansa, however, was hesitant.

“What do I do with it?” Arya peered up at her sister whose profile was outlined by the light coming in through the one window in the broken tower, a spot Arya had chosen for its privacy.

“Stick ‘em with the pointy end,” Arya betrayed only a small smile at her inside joke which widened when she saw Sansa instinctively rolled her eyes.

“ _Obviously_ ,” she said. Arya remembered how she’d reacted similarly when Jon had said the same to her before leaving Winterfell. _I know which end to use_ she’d said rolling her eyes like Sansa did now. The Arya of back then never would have thought she’d be sharing the same fond sibling teasing she’d shared with Jon with Sansa. _But it’s nice_ , Arya thought.

“First off, how is the fit and the balance? Does it feel alright?”

“I guess so,” Sansa said appraisingly but as cautiously as Arya had been when she’d held Needle for the very first time.

As per Arya’s request, Gendry had fashioned Sansa a magnificent weapon. It was a medium sized dagger, small enough to be hidden beneath one of Sansa’s large fur cloaks or in a holster hidden underneath one of her thick woolen dresses. One side of the blade shown with pure valyrian steel, while the other half showed the rougher, but still deadly texture of dragon glass. How Gendry managed to fuse the two very different materials so seamlessly was beyond Arya. The hilt of the dagger was wrapped in soft copper colored leather that matched Sansa’s hair, and the pommel looked like white ivory carved to resemble a direwolf head, not unlike Jon’s Longclaw. However, this one was even more uniquely beautiful since Arya could see two small blue sapphires where the eyes were.

_It was a weapon made for a **Queen**._

Arya thought it suited her sister perfectly: It was regal and beautiful, but still practical and deadly sharp. The kind of object a careless admirer would cut themselves on. An admirer not unlike the many men who had coveted Sansa, all of whom had met painful ends.

Young Arya would have been overwhelmed with jealousy and verbally lashed out at her sister who probably would have responded in kind. Older Arya simply adjusted Sansa’s hand position to make it more secure, while her sister readily obliged, taking all of Arya’s advice seriously despite her wariness.

“Stand with your feet shoulder width apart, yes, like that. Now bend your knees and lean forward slightly, always keep your balance centered so you can’t be thrown off, but be ready to lean into the thrust for maximum power,” Arya rattled off instructions, and Sansa quickly obeyed. If she was nervous, she wasn’t showing it.

“Now try a basic forward thrust.” Sansa did.

“Next time angle the hilt a little more towards your body. How does it feel?”

Sansa breathed through her nose, “Like I’m stabbing air.” She let her dagger hand drop to her side. “I just don’t think this will prepare me for...the real thing.”

Arya knew her sister had nerves of steel and had what it took to kill someone if need be. She’d been the one to deliver the execution blow, but Arya remembered how Sansa had looked down at Littlefinger as his blood pooled across the Great Hall, his last words, her sister's name, still echoing in the still air.

Unlike Daenerys Targaryen the Conqueror and even Arya Stark the Avenger, Sansa took no direct pleasure in killing. Arya knew she’d do whatever had to be done, even if she empathized with the victim. It was something she admired about her sister: even though she’d been hardened, she hadn’t lost her sense of compassion and mercy. Just another reason she was a better leader.

“You’re right. It’s much easier with a target. Which is why I had one brought up from the training yard.” She gestured to the shadows by the wall where a straw sack training dummy lay.

Sansa hadn’t noticed it. “You’re taking this quite seriously aren’t you,” she teased.

“Deadly,” Arya replied. She took most things seriously these days, especially her siblings’ safety.

She pulled the roughly human shaped dummy towards the center of the room in the space she’d cleared off and gestured for Sansa to move towards her. Sansa still looked unsure, so Arya decided to demonstrate. She took a small step before swirling back and stabbing Needle through the neck area.

She couldn’t read the look Sansa gave her as she eyed her up and down before looking at the place where Needle had lodged itself. Then she gestured down at herself, “Should I change into something more,” She looked at Arya’s lightweight, flexible, two-piece outfit, “...practical?”

Arya analyzed Sansa’s appearance for a moment. Aside from braiding her long red hair neatly out of her face, her sister looked the same as ever. She’d taken to wearing more warrior-like armored details on her gowns, but they were gowns nonetheless. Hardly optimal for fighting.

“It’s good to practice in the conditions you’d perform, and unless you plan on wearing trousers from here on out…” They shared a small laugh before Sansa joined her beside the dummy. Arya simply stepped out of her sister’s way and waited.

Sansa breathed deep like she’d seen Arya do before lunging forward on one leg and thrusting the dagger towards the chest area of the dummy. Arya thought it was a strong first attempt, even if it had glanced away a bit towards the end due to a lack of follow through.

She walked up, “Well you didn’t pierce the heart, but you gave him a nice big cut across the collarbone.” She turned to Sansa to smile, but saw her sister looking extra pale and uncertain.

Her sister’s hand unconsciously drifted towards the neckline of her gown before dropping and clenching where she probably hoped Arya wouldn’t notice. Unfortunately for her, Arya noticed a lot of things.

“Sansa…?”

Arya watched Sansa take a breath and steel herself like she so often had to. Sansa smiled mirthfully, but there was little humor in her eyes.

“Ramsay enjoyed daggers and knives immensely....among other things…he loved cutting things...people….” Her voice trailed off into painful silence. Arya felt her own hands clench at her side. She wished she could bring the Bolton bastard back to life just so she could gut him again, nice and slowly. The rage only intensified when she saw Sansa staring resolutely at the dagger in her hands which were shaking.

“I unleashed his hounds on him, you know. I watched as they tore him apart, piece by piece, and I didn’t flinch.”

Arya stayed very still as not to spook Sansa or interrupt her while she offered up this information.

“Father always said it, you know, the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword, and sometimes I…...I wonder what it would’ve felt like to stick a blade into his heart myself.”

Arya felt her stomach lurch as Sansa finally looked up at her, her pupils small and her eyes a shocking blue where her unshed tears lay. Sansa, her beautiful, perfect, Lady sister looked at her now, begging her to see her in all her ugly, imperfect glory.

“I know you’ve killed lots of people, Arya, and at first that scared me, but I want you to know it doesn’t anymore...I understand. This is the first time I’ve ever handled Valyrian steel, but...I’ve seen death too.”

Finally, Arya approached Sansa, looking her in the eye.

“I know you have, Sansa. And that reminds me of the most important lesson Syrio taught me, do you remember? I probably mentioned it back in King’s Landing when we weren’t fighting ..” Sansa raised her eyebrow in question.

“What do we say to the God of Death, Sansa?”

Sansa let out a small breath, “Not today.”

They slowly began to smile at each other as it started snowing, flakes drifting in through the window and the wind howling like a direwolf in the distance.

Arya stepped back, out of Sansa’s way, her face a mask of intensity once more.

“Try again.”

**Author's Note:**

> I bullshitted the stuff about how to use a dagger based on what I've gotten from boxing lessons and tennis lessons, so I hope you took that with a grain of salt.


End file.
